Page 15 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

I couldn’t believe he’d torn my dress right down the middle. The garment was new, cost a small fortune, and now hung in tatters around my waist.

“Are you kidding me?” I started to protest, but the words died in my throat as his mouth captured my nipple.

My body betrayed me instantly, back arching as a moan escaped my lips.

His tongue circled and flicked while his thumb worked my other nipple into a tight peak.

Without conscious thought, my fingers threaded through his thick hair, holding him closer instead of pushing him away like any rational woman would.

I caught a glimpse of my wedding ring, stark against the glossy sheen of his hair. We were coming together as husband and wife after over two months of chaste avoidance. After I promised myself to keep my distance...

What was happening to me? I should be furious about the dress, about being manhandled out of the garden, about this entire caveman display. Instead, heat pooled between my thighs, and my skin felt hypersensitive to every touch.

“Konstantin,” I breathed, my voice unrecognizable even to my own ears. When he looked up at me, my nipple still between his lips, the raw hunger in his eyes sent a shiver through my entire body.

He released me with a wet pop that should have been ridiculous but somehow wasn’t, then trailed hot kisses up my chest, my neck, my jaw. His mouth reclaimed mine with a possessiveness that made my toes curl.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him, meeting his passion with my own. Whatever battle of wills we’d been fighting had transformed into something else entirely.

The car rolled to a stop, but I barely noticed. My world had narrowed to this man, these sensations, this moment.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice warned that I was crossing every line I’d drawn for myself. I ignored it.

He lifted me effortlessly, moving me across the seat and laying me back against the cool leather.

His weight settled over me, deliciously heavy as his tongue explored my mouth with renewed intensity.

I tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer.

His lips traveled down my jaw, my neck, the sensitive hollow of my collarbone. Each kiss left a trail of fire in its wake. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, mapping every curve of my body with possessiveness.

When his mouth moved between my breasts and continued downward, my breath caught. His tongue circled my navel as his hands spread my thighs wider. I gasped, gripping his hair as he continued his descent.

At the edge of my thong, he paused, breath hot against my skin. He inhaled deeply before pressing his lips against the thin fabric covering my mound. The light pressure sent electricity shooting through me, and I couldn’t stop the tremor racing down my back.

His fingers hooked into the waistband, drawing the material down my legs. I couldn’t look away from his eyes, couldn’t control my rapid breathing, couldn’t quiet the thundering of my heart.

When he discarded the scrap of fabric and gripped my thighs, spreading them wider, I should have felt vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful.

The first press of his lips against my bare flesh drew a moan from deep in my throat. The intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of me, glistening and ready, sent another wave of heat through my body.

Then his mouth was on me again, tongue exploring, lips sucking, and coherent thought became impossible. I cried out, unable to control the sounds escaping me as pleasure built and built. His hands slid beneath me, cupping and lifting me to his mouth as he feasted like a man starved.

My body tensed, the pressure building to an unbearable peak. “Konstantin!” I screamed his name as the orgasm tore through me, my body convulsing beneath his relentless mouth.

He growled against me, the vibration prolonging the waves of pleasure until I was trembling and gasping.

When he finally looked up, resting his chin against me, his eyes met mine with a satisfaction that made my stomach flip. I reached for him, cupping his face and drawing him up my body.

“Konstantin,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming, “I need you.”

His eyes darkened further as he commanded, “Open your legs. Show me how much you want my baby.”

The words should have been a reminder of our arrangement and of the clinical way we were supposed to create a child. Instead, they sent another jolt of desire through me. I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me, consequences be damned.

“Is this how Greek husbands typically negotiate with their wives?”

His eyes darkened as he leaned closer. “Only with wives who drive them to madness,” he growled, one hand tightening on my hip while the other traced the curve of my cheek.

His mouth claimed mine in a searing kiss, and I tasted myself on his lips, his tongue, his chin. The intimacy of it heightened my arousal. I moaned into his mouth, arching against him.

He shifted above me, his hands working quickly at his belt. As he freed himself from his pants, I caught my first glimpse of him, and my eyes widened. He was thick—incredibly thick—the thickest I’d ever seen.

A flutter of apprehension mixed with anticipation rippled through me. How would he possibly fit?

“I’ll fit,” he murmured, somehow reading my thoughts. “My body was made for this. For you.”

His confident words sent a thrill coursing through me. I spread my legs wider, ready to prove him right.

When he began to push into me, the thick head of his dick stretching me inch by inch, I panted. The sensation was a delicious burn, walking the line between pleasure and pain.

He moved with surprising patience, giving my body time to adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving mine. The intimacy of his gaze was almost more overwhelming than his physical presence inside me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting all of him. “Yes, Konstantin, yes,” I moaned, rolling my hips upward to meet his thrusts. “You feel so good inside me.”

Each thrust was long and deep, each withdrawal leaving me desperate for more. The controlled power of his movements and the intense focus in his eyes as he watched my reactions drove me wild.

The car filled with the slick slide of skin against skin, our heavy breathing, his low groans mingling with my higher gasps. I could feel pressure building again, my body tensing around his thick shaft.

“Oh God, Konstantin, I’m so close,” I cried out, feeling my inner muscles begin to flutter around him. “You’re going to make me come so hard.”

He growled low in his throat, his hips moving faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent. I could feel his body tensing above me, his thick dick swelling even more inside me.

His mouth moved to my ear. “Fuck, Kayla,” he whispered. “Your pussy is so good to me.”

His words, combined with the relentless stroke of his cock, sent me spiraling over the edge. The pleasure exploded outward, from where we were joined to the tips of my fingers and toes. A cry tore from my throat and reverberated through the car’s interior.

Then he tensed above me, his body shaking with his own release. “Only you make me lose control like this. I never expected...”

With a final, deep thrust, he came, hot pulses filling me as a groan of pleasure rumbled against my ear. The sound of my name on his lips as he came was perhaps the most erotic thing I’d ever heard.

We stayed locked together, our breathing gradually slowing down. My body shivered with aftershocks.

In the silence that followed, filled only with our mingled breaths, I felt a connection that transcended words. Something profound had shifted between us. Something that couldn’t be contained within the terms of our business arrangement.

“I prefer this method of conception,” he rumbled against my ear. “Nature’s way is superior.”

I giggled. How could I be laughing at a moment like this? I attempted to ease out from under him, suddenly aware of our surroundings.

He stopped me with gentle pressure. “Stay just like this,” he said, his tone tender. “Maximizing our chances requires you to remain on your back with your hips tilted upwards.”

The reminder of why we were together in the first place—to make a baby—should have doused the afterglow. Instead, I found myself smiling up at him, tracing the strong line of his jaw.

Creating a life with him didn’t feel like a business transaction at all. And that realization was more dangerous than anything else that had happened tonight.

I closed my eyes, trying to regain my equilibrium. I needed to remember why we were here and what this arrangement was really about. Physical pleasure was one thing; emotional entanglement was something else entirely.

When I finally looked out the window, my jaw dropped. We were parked at what appeared to be a private airstrip.

“Wait, we were moving the whole time?”

“You were otherwise engaged,” Konstantin replied with a hint of smugness in his expression. “Though I’m rather pleased you were too distracted to notice.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to regain some semblance of dignity despite being half-naked in the back of a car. “Can we go back to the villa, please? I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

The passion-induced haze was clearing, and embarrassment crept in to replace it. I’d behaved like a woman possessed—moaning, screaming his name, begging. I needed space before I started believing this connection meant more than creating a baby and physical release.

“That won’t be necessary,” he stated, though his eyes softened briefly as they swept over me. “We have matters to discuss privately.”

“What matters?” I challenged, scanning the car floor for my underwear. The torn dress was a lost cause, but I at least needed some basics.

He handed me my thong, plucked from somewhere beside him. I made a face at the thought of putting the damp fabric back on.

“Your association with Yiorgos,” he said, his voice level but with an undercurrent of anger. “I find it unacceptable.”

“No thanks,” I replied, matching his bluntness with my own. This interrogation was exactly what I didn’t need right now.

He shrugged out of his button-down shirt and handed it to me. “Take this,” he offered.

I caught sight of a jagged scar running from just below his collarbone toward his ribs on the left side. The puckered tissue stood out against his otherwise smooth skin.

My breath caught at the sight. This powerful man, who carried me off like I weighed nothing, had nearly been taken from this world before I’d even met him.

I quickly looked away, not wanting him to catch me staring at what must be a painful reminder.

“Thank you,” I said, slipping into his shirt, grateful for the coverage despite drowning in the fabric.

His scent surrounded me, which wasn’t helping my attempt to regain emotional distance. “Though I’d appreciate it if the next time you wanted to undress me, you asked first instead of destroying my clothes.”

“Next time?” He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Figure of speech,” I replied quickly. “I’m just saying designer dresses aren’t disposable.”

“I’ll replace it,” he said dismissively.

“That’s not the point,” I countered. “You can’t just manhandle me whenever you feel like it and destroy my things when the mood strikes.”

“You didn’t seem to mind the manhandling a few minutes ago,” he observed, his voice dropping to that rumble that somehow vibrated through my entire body.

“That is...” I searched for words that wouldn’t inflate his already substantial ego. “Entirely beside the point.”

“Is it?” His eyes held mine. “I think it was precisely the point.”

I eyed his tie, still loosely knotted around his neck. “I’ll need that,” I told him, extending my hand.

He looked at me with mild curiosity before efficiently removing it and placing it in my palm.

“Resourceful,” he commented as I looped it around my waist, cinching the oversized shirt into something resembling a very short dress.

“This conversation will happen, Michaila.” His tone left no room for argument despite the surprising gentleness with which he spoke my name.

The makeshift outfit wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but at least I didn’t look completely disheveled. Thankfully, I was wearing sandals when he’d kidnapped me from the garden.

Now that I felt somewhat presentable, I faced him directly. “Why are you being like this? Take me home.”

His expression tightened. “I’ve found putting you over my shoulder yielded more efficient results. Would you prefer my returning to that method?”

I rolled my eyes, though my body betrayed me with a small shiver at the undercurrent in his voice. “Fine, I’ll come with you, but you can’t make me talk.”

I wasn’t even sure why I was being difficult. There was nothing romantic between Yiorgos and me. I could easily clear up this misunderstanding.

But something inside me rebelled against Konstantin’s assumption that he had the right to demand explanations. He’d left me for weeks without a word while he traveled with his fiancée.

Besides, his jealousy gave me a perverse satisfaction. Let him wonder. Let him feel just a fraction of the confusion I’d been dealing with since our first kiss.